Share and share alike
by shallowness
Summary: She never wears his shirts, then one time she does. Ginny/Neville.


Title: Share and share alike  
Author: shallowness  
Fandom: Harry Potter  
Rating: PG  
Characters/Pairing: Ginny/Neville,  
Summary: She never wears his shirts, then one time she does

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't profit financially.  
Author's Note: 1,092 words. ER, AU. Written for the prompt 'Any, any, she never wears his shirts, then one time she does' at comment_fic

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**Share and share alike: shallowness**

Ginny gets out of bed first, shuffling and having to move so slowly that she's thinking seriously about grabbing her wand and levitating herself as she makes her way to the loo. She expects Neville to remain sleeping for a good while yet. He doesn't have a baby hotstepping all over his bladder and, in fairness, he spent all of yesterday filling the newly ready nursery with a mix of Longbottom heirlooms and Weasley cast-offs. Ginny had left him, Bill and Ron to it, having done her job in negotiating what was coming from where. Grandmothers and greatgrandmothers-to-be are touchy creatures.

Breakfast is a leisurely matter, the days of snatching some toast and rushing off for Quidditch practice gone for now. When a rumpled Neville emerges, she has another tea with him.

"When are you going to your Gran's?" she asks.

"Half an hour or so," he says. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you idiot, just take your DA coin with you in case my waters break."

He pales, and Ginny decides then and there that part of her birthing plan is making sure someone stays with Neville at all times during labour. He probably won't faint, she knows how brave he is, but better to be prepared.

The Easter holidays had come at just the right time this year, they'd thought. He'd be around when Ginny was likely to have the baby, not at work giving a Herbology lesson. The due date isn't until the end of the holidays, though, and, now that she's living through the final countdown, as Auntie Gin knows all too well, the baby will come when she or he's good and ready. Still, it's good to have Neville around.

He's about to say something - probably to offer to stay at home with her, but Ginny forestalls him, putting her hand on his arm.

"You can't begrudge your Gran this time. She's getting older and you're on the verge of being a dad. Of course she's going to want to see you, especially because she's miffed we didn't take everything she offered for the baby's room."

"Yeah, but-"

"You always go there to tend to the garden at Easter, and it's easier that you go now than after." She smiles encouragingly at him.

He gives a small grin back, and Ginny knows she's won the argument.

"I just hope that that so-called gardener she hires hasn't let the bushes get too rampant. I'm a bit sore after yesterday. It'd be good to have a quiet day."

"Sore? I thought you levitated everything in," Ginny said.

"Erm, yes."

"What did Bill and Ron do?"

"Nothing, honest. We, well, I got a little clumsy by the end. It's a tiring business."

Ginny doesn't remember any loud thumps from the day before, but both Fleur and Hermione are canny enough to use the Silencio charm, and she was only allowed to see the nursery after everything was done and her sisters-in-law had put in the final touches.

"You will call your mum and ask her to pop over," Neville says, so earnestly that she feels the usual mix of emotions, irritation at the cotton wool she's being wrapped up in by her family, shame about her irritation and gladness that they care so much.

"Yes, I promised her I would. Though we'd best not leave the washing up for her to do."

"I'll do it," he says immediately.

"You're my favourite person in the world!" She beams at him.

"And you're very sneaky."

She chuckles and pulls herself up, aware that Neville is watching her with a smidge of anxiety. Apparently Bill was just this bad in Fleur's last weeks of carrying Victoire too, but the way that the simplest things have become more involved for her would be much less irritating if people didn't notice.

"I'll get changed, then," she says.

Standing in front of the wardrobe, Ginny sighs and shuts the door, having taken nothing out. Turning to look at the mirror is probably a mistake, but it's a kind mirror. Neville mumbled that it had been his mother's before putting it up when they moved in, and Ginny would have loved it anyway because of that, but it's been supportive before big matches and always warned her of visible love bites or stubble burn, zits and tangled hair, which is all you can ask from a mirror, really.

"Not long now, dear," it says.

"Want to be more specific?" Ginny asks.

"Not really, no."

The answer makes Ginny laugh. Behind her is the bed where the child she's carrying was conceived. Apart from wanting relief from carrying so much extra weight and all the things that come with pregnancy, she's impatient to see and hold her child, to find out if she's passed on the Weasley hair, or if the baby will have Neville's smile.

"Of course, that smile is part of what got me here," she murmurs, more to the baby than the mirror.

Knowing she can't stay dressed in her nightclothes if her mother is coming over, but feeling that she's almost too big for her maternity robes, Ginny goes over to Neville's wardrobe in desperation. It's divided up into clothes to wear when he's gardening and other occasions. He has quite a bit of Muggle clothes, and she reaches for a shirt, a cotton one in blue. She's never worn one of his shirts before, knowing she'd drown in them, but today feels different.

She's mostly fully dressed, wearing leggings on her bottom half, and combing out her hair when Neville returns to the bedroom.

"Oh," he says.

"Do you mind?" she asks, even as she's turning around to face him, meaning him minding about her wearing one of his good shirts about the house. The way he's staring at her makes her blush something silly, something wonderful.

"Mind? Gin - you." He's spluttering. Clearly he doesn't mind one bit.

"I?" she teases. "I what?"

After two quick steps from him, his hands are grasping the collar of his shirt and his lips on hers. It's a fervent kiss, the concerned restraint of the past few days discarded.

"You can wear my shirts whenever you like," Neville whispers in her ear eventually, one of his hands going down to curve the side of the bump between them, the bump that they made.

"Yeah, all right," she says, totally failing to sound casual.

Until a week and a half later, when Betony Luna Longbottom is born, Ginny works her way through all of Neville's shirts.

Fin

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